


Un-unhappy

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Older Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney finally wins the accolades he always thought he deserved, but is he happy? And is John?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Un-unhappy

"Does this mean you'll finally stop whining?" John asked without preamble when Rodney picked up the phone.

"I was _not_ whining," Rodney said.

"Yes, you were," John disagreed. "Every year for longer than I care to remember."

Rodney huffed. "So?"

"So I hope the whining finally stops," John said.

"Don't you want to say anything else to me?" Rodney asked.

John hesitated for a moment. "What else would I want to tell you?"

"How about 'congratulations'?" Rodney said. "'I always knew that you were one of the smartest minds on Earth, Rodney. It's about time they finally recognized it.'"

"'One of the smartest'? Wow, Rodney, you've really gotten mellow with age," John said.

"Pah. So did you only call to insult me?" Rodney asked.

"Do you want to come over for a beer, or are you too famous now to still know me?" John asked in return.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, even this won't make me nearly as famous as I deserve," Rodney said. Quietly he thought that even if it would, he wouldn't stop knowing John for anything in the world.

John laughed. "So come on over. Beer is just the right temperature. I even have food you're still allowed to eat."

"I hate you," Rodney said.

John only laughed again and hung up.

~~

The beer was nice, and even the healthy food wasn't completely tasteless. Rodney had used the opportunity to tell John about all the calls he'd gotten, the requests for interviews and speeches.

Still, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that it wasn't all that he expected.

John nudged Rodney's knee with his own. "What's up?" he asked. "Wasn't this what you wanted all your life?"

"Yes, yes, it was, I suppose," Rodney said half-heartedly.

John gave him a look.

"I certainly deserve it," Rodney added more forcefully.

"And you're _still_ not happy?" John asked.

"I..." Rodney began, but then stopped. Was he happy about finally winning? Sure. Was he happy period? That was a much more loaded question. "I'm not unhappy or anything," he said.

"You've said yourself that this is the highest honor they can give a scientist," John pointed out.

"I know and it is," Rodney said. "And I'm happy with winning—as I should have."

John frowned. "But you're not happy."

"I didn't say that. I said I'm not unhappy."

"So you're un-unhappy?" John asked, remaining serious.

"I don't know," Rodney said, thinking not about John's joking question but rather the real one. "Are you?"

John seemed to consider it for a moment, then shrugged and nodded. "I'm pretty happy, yeah."

"'Pretty happy', huh?" Rodney said. "Sounds awfully like un-unhappy to me."

John looked at him for a long moment. "I'm as happy as I thought I'd ever be."

Rodney tried to parse that answer. "You didn't think you'd ever be perfectly happy?" When John didn't answer, Rodney added, "I always thought I'd be perfectly happy _at some point_."

"But you aren't," John said.

"I...I don't know. Maybe I am and just don't know it," Rodney said.

"You'd know it," John said without hesitation.

Rodney frowned at him. "Maybe perfect happiness is simply lack of complaining. Would explain the many stupid but happy people."

John rolled his eyes. "If perfect happiness were lack of complaining, you were _never_ going to find it."

Rodney put his beer down in irritation and turned to John, crossing his arms. "Well, since you seem to know exactly what happiness is, do tell."

"Happiness is..." John began, seemingly searching for words. "Realizing what is important in your life and what isn't and getting the former and not letting the latter get to you."

"You know, I'm not sure if this is one of your insightful moments or if this is complete bullshit. Because what you just said basically boils down to knowing what you want and getting it."

"Don't you think that's what makes most people happy?" John asked.

"Nobody in the world gets everything they want," Rodney said.

"Not that kind of want," John said. "Not the I'd like a million dollars or World Peace wants. Not fantasies or wishes. The life that you see yourself having once you grow out of the astronaut and rock star phase."

"Hey, I wanted to be a rocket scientist from an early age," Rodney protested.

John smiled. "I can imagine that."

"So by your definition I should be perfectly happy now?" Rodney asked.

John sobered. "Didn't you ever imagine more to your life than work?"

Rodney sighed. Of course they'd come to this. "Look, I'm not denying that my vision of this moment included a wife who'd sit by my side once I stand up to graciously accept—"

John coughed.

Rodney glared at him. "So, yes, I had the notion of a wife at some point, possibly kids, but I tried that, and let me tell you it's not all that it's cracked up to be. Frankly, I was happier with Jennifer before we got married, and I wasn't perfectly happy back then either."

"You weren't?" John asked quietly.

Rodney looked at him for a moment. "Not that I can remember. I was content."

"Un-unhappy," John suggested.

"Is that what's been missing for you? A partner?" Rodney asked. John had never really lamented his lack of serious relationships after the break-up with Greg, which had been...over a decade ago.

"The white picket fence two and half kids thing was never meant for me," John said. "I just didn't know it at the time. And I have my nieces. And grandniece soon."

"It's going to be a girl?" Rodney asked.

"Yes," John said, grinning.

"One can only hope she doesn't take after her mother," Rodney said dramatically. John gave him a slight kick. Rodney chuckled.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"I'm not sure what I'd need to be perfectly happy," Rodney said eventually. "Even _I_ didn't expect to solve all mysteries in the universe. I'm happy with what I've achieved—and am _still_ achieving—with my work. I don't think kids would make a difference to me. I'm glad we didn't have any before we divorced. It was better this way. And they probably would have hated me anyway."

"Rodney," John said in protest.

"I'm not good with people, John. Just because you can for some unfathomable reason put up with me for—how long has it been? Thirty years? Doesn't mean that others feel the same," Rodney said.

"Radek liked you," John said.

"Yes, he did," Rodney said wistfully. He missed his friend. "But it's not the same as a relationship. And I never could make them work. At this point in my life I'm willing to accept that. So does this mean it falls outside the scope of things I need for perfect happiness or is it the reason why I'm perfectly un-unhappy instead of happy?"

John didn't say anything for a long moment. "We could just be un-unhappy together."

Rodney snorted. "I have to admit, it worked quite well so far." He relaxed back into the couch, bumping his shoulder with John's. "It's too bad we couldn't be happy together, huh?"

Beside him, John froze. After a moment, he exhaled and relaxed again, but there was still a tension around him that Rodney recognized from the missions they'd gone on together in what felt like another life.

"John?" Rodney asked.

John turned to him and gave him a forced smile. "Yup, too bad," he said, taking a sip from the beer.

Rodney wasn't particularly good at reading people, but he knew John as well as he would ever know anyone, and that had been a pretty poor attempt at deflection. Though what John would want to deflect from he wasn't sure. "You think we could have been happy together?" Rodney asked, though he wasn't entirely sure _what_ he was asking exactly.

John stared at his nearly empty bottle as if something fascinating was going on with it. Then he turned to Rodney. "Want another one?" He didn't wait for Rodney's answer and got up and walked towards the kitchen.

Rodney was bewildered. There'd been a time when he'd wondered if John had ever had feelings for him. Feelings that went beyond friendship. Back when John had first come out to them by bringing his boyfriend over to dinner, Rodney had experienced a whole avalanche of emotions, but he'd been left with that question. He'd never actually asked John, though. He'd still been with Jennifer, and John had had a boyfriend, so it didn't seem right. And somehow it hadn't happened at any point later when either of them or both had been single again.

Not that Rodney was necessarily right in his interpretation. John had never been one to talk about his feelings. Maybe he simply thought that his struggles as a gay man were hardly comparable to Rodney's but didn't want to point it out to Rodney. Maybe the things that he'd given up on hurt more than he cared to admit.

It occurred to Rodney that John was taking pretty long just to get another beer. He got up and followed John into the kitchen.

John _had_ gotten another beer, but the bottle sat in front of him on the counter unopened while John was leaning forward, both hands on the counter as if he wasn't able to stand without support. Everything about his posture conveyed tension and struggle. Rodney couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him like this. And frankly he didn't want to.

He needed to know, however, what was troubling John so much that he didn't think he could face Rodney. "You think we could have been happy together?" he repeated his question.

John froze, then stepped away from the counter and after a beat turned to Rodney. "No," he said, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "We couldn't have been happy together." It sounded absolute. It was beyond even resignation, and it hurt Rodney to see this look on John because it seemed far too familiar.

Rodney didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure if John's response had answered his question. "You would have wanted to, though," Rodney said, not quite a question.

John looked at him for a moment, then lightly shook his head. "I'm as happy as I thought I'd ever be," he repeated. "Part of that's knowing what you can't have."

Even _if_ you want it, Rodney added mentally. How could he not have seen this for thirty years?

John dropped his gaze for a moment, then looked up again, his expression more relaxed. "So, have you booked your flight?" he asked, smiling.

Rodney shook his head. "I haven't done anything in terms of organizing. There's still time." Then, acting on impulse, he added, "Do you want to go with me?"

John looked surprised. "Don't you want to take your sister and Madison?"

"Yes, of course. I'll invite all my friends _and_ my enemies," Rodney said, making John smile. "If there was a way, I'd invite Teyla and Ronon," Rodney added.

John's face darkened as it always did at the mention of their friends.

"We'll see them again," Rodney said. "Maybe at the anniversary of declassification."

John nodded. Then he smirked. "And you can tell them in great detail about your great honor."

"Tell them? You mean show them the recording from all available angles," Rodney said.

John snorted.

"Will you come?" Rodney repeated, serious again. "Sit by my side when they introduce me?"

John looked at him for a moment, then nodded.

~~

They talked about the ceremony and possible interviews after that, keeping conversation light and safe. But when Rodney was back home, sitting at his desk to read the messages that had come in while he was with John, his thoughts turned back to their conversation about happiness.

He couldn't help reconstructing the timeline of their relationship and how it was possible that they hadn't brought this up for thirty years.

Rodney could still clearly remember the day he met John. That mix of emotion when he found out that there was someone who could easily control the chair, both the elation and the annoyance, and the afterthought that it wasn't fair that this guy had to be a pilot of all things—and such an attractive one at that.

Rodney had clamped down on that latter emotion, cutting it off before it could run away with him. By the time he'd met John it had become second nature.

He'd had sex with guys at university. But one wrong word to the wrong guy had taught him to be more cautious when working with the military. The marine hadn't actually beaten him to a bloody pulp, but Rodney had no doubt that if he hadn't backed off or it would have been someone else, he might not have been so lucky. In the end, it had just seemed easier to stick to women, who weren't necessarily more welcoming of his advances, but they hardly ever physically threatened him.

It hadn't been the complete end of gay sex for him. In Siberia, the opportunity had presented itself, and Rodney had taken it, but for the most part Rodney didn't even miss it. He liked women a lot. And ignoring his attraction to men wasn't too hard. Mostly. Even now, after thirty years, he remembered that with John it hadn't been as simple. That moment of shutting off his reaction to him, of rigorously ignoring the way he was drawn to John, had happened more than once, much more often than with any other man before or after.

It had taken the unfortunate Chaya event to finally channel Rodney's feelings for John more clearly into that of friendship, though he honestly couldn't remember anything other than that he'd been jealous and that he'd been right about her. John must have given him the feeling that there was definitely no chance for Rodney.

And maybe he hadn't had a chance back then.

John had never told him when he'd started identifying as gay. And in his revelation today, he hadn't mentioned _when_ he might have wished for them to be happy together. Right from the start? At some point when they were both on Atlantis? After Rodney's divorce? After not making it work with Greg?

As so often with John, Rodney had no idea, and in this case he didn't even want to guess. He'd always felt that John hadn't completely warmed to Jennifer, but maybe he simply had seen that they weren't right for each other. Or he'd been jealous even back then.

Just like Rodney.

One of the peculiarities of Rodney's suppression of his attraction was that he couldn't seem to let go of the jealousy. Even if he'd managed never to mentally undress John or to masturbate thinking about him, he'd never been able to stop the outbreaks of jealousy, no matter how unfounded or inappropriate they were. He'd even felt bad about it sometimes, because a few of the guys hadn't deserved it. Not the one that John had first brought over to dinner, and not Greg. They'd been good guys, who appreciated John for more than being handsome and relatively well-off. And still Rodney had been relieved to see their relationship with John end.

John hadn't been like that. Or at least he hadn't shown it. He'd seemed genuinely sorry when Rodney had told him about the divorce. And yet, Rodney remembered that sad smile that he'd seen on John today. That forced happiness, as if he was willing himself to be happy for Rodney when he was with someone else. 'Go get the girl.' Rodney had to think for a moment when he'd heard John say that before he remembered that it had been when he'd wanted to propose to Katie...he couldn't even remember her last name. The sad thing was that John probably did.

The _really_ sad thing, though, was the implication of John faking happiness even back then.

_We couldn't have been happy together._

Rodney knew that John was convinced of this. He'd seen it in his eyes. But he didn't know if John was right.

Over the years, Rodney had suppressed many instances of attraction towards men, most of them meaningless. There was no doubt that his feelings for John weren't meaningless. They were the opposite of meaningless really. But attraction? Even now when he tried to conjure up John's face and body, aged so well that people still flirted with him much to Rodney's annoyance, Rodney's mind immediately seemed to clamp down and tried to shut off anything resembling lust.

Or maybe those feelings from when he'd first met John were simply gone. Maybe friendship was the only thing that was left. Not that it wouldn't be enough. John's friendship was the most important relationship in his life. After thirty years he was pretty confident of that. But thinking about their friendship, about John's feelings brought him back to the matter of happiness. Or un-unhappiness as the case might be.

He still felt content looking at his life. He'd finally won the honor to crown his scientific work. He had a family who liked him well enough to visit now and then. He had an ex-wife, whom he was friendly with. He had a few colleagues that he actually sort of liked. And he had a wonderful best friend.

Who was apparently in love with him—and didn't expect that this love would ever be reciprocated.

It was this that tore at Rodney's heart. He wasn't sure how much he cared about his own happiness. He wasn't even entirely sure if his content wasn't happiness, despite John's protests that he'd know it if he was happy. But what he _did_ know without a doubt was that he wanted _John_ to be happy.

He wanted John to be a happy with a fierce desperation that felt almost physical. He'd give anything to see John not just relaxed, but elated.

With sudden clarity Rodney realized that it wasn't just a figure of speech. Of course he wouldn't give _anything_ to see John happy. But if he could choose between winning what he'd won today and making John truly happy, he didn't even have to think about it.

And that thought was a bit scary. He'd waited for this moment all his life. Or at least he'd thought he did. It was the ultimate recognition of his genius. But the thing was, he hadn't been any less smart yesterday or the day before. It might be well deserved _recognition_ , but at some point in his life, he appeared to have stopped needing the validation. Winning this award was nice, but making John happy would be an achievement against which anything else could only pale in comparison.

And he could do it. He _wanted_ to do it.

Rodney grabbed the jacket he'd discarded and quickly walked out of the house, taking the same steps down the street that would take him to John again.

~~

John opened the door wordlessly and let him in.

They stood like this for a moment, watching each other. Rodney wasn't quite sure how to say what he needed to say. 'I want to make you happy' sounded ridiculous even if it was true. He settled on, "I think you're wrong. You shouldn't have to limit your expectations like that. To un-unhappiness."

John didn't say anything, so Rodney pressed on.

"And you don't have to. And neither do I. Because making you happy will make me happy," Rodney finally finished.

Instead of the expected elation, John frowned. He apparently didn't get what Rodney was trying to say.

"John, I—" Rodney stopped himself, and instead leaned forward, only to have John move out of his reach, frown as pronounced as before.

"You want to _make_ me happy?" John asked. "How's that— Rodney, that's not how it works."

"But it is!" Rodney disagreed. "Because I _can_ make you happy."

"No, you can't," John said. "This isn't some kind of switch that you can just turn. 'Oh, what should I do today? How about making John happy.'"

"What are you talking about?" Rodney asked, because it still seemed pretty straight-forward to him. He wanted to be with John which would make him happy.

"Being in love!" John said.

"I know," Rodney said, still confused because that was what he meant. "I do. I am. I love you."

"I don't doubt that you love me, but that's not... You're straight," John said.

"No, I'm not. I've had sex with guys when I was younger," Rodney said.

John looked surprised but still frowned. "I've known you for thirty years, but you never even flirted with a guy as far as I can tell. Were you _hiding_ this?"

"Well," Rodney said. "Not so much hiding as...ignoring. When I first started working for the US military, gays weren't allowed to be open about it. I nearly got beat up once when I came on to the wrong guy so I just...suppressed that kind of attraction."

"But what about after your divorce? You had no reason after that to keep hiding it," John said.

"I didn't _hide_ it. I just didn't mention it," Rodney said.

"Or _acted_ on it! How many stories about your failed dates did I have to listen to? You think I wouldn't have noticed if a guy was among them?" John said, clearly still bothered by something, though Rodney didn't understand what.

"I already told you I suppressed my attraction to guys," Rodney said.

"Yes, you did," John said. "And suddenly you decide to switch it back on so that you can 'make me happy'."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing. Don't you _want_ to be happy?" Rodney asked.

"That is not happiness," John said, enunciating every word. "It's not _real_. This is not how love works." After a moment he added, "At least for most people."

"I think caring more about someone else's happiness than your own is pretty much the definition of love," Rodney said.

John only stared at him for a moment. "Friendship is love too. And don't think for a moment that I do not value our friendship. And I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it's not going to work."

"This isn't just friendship," Rodney protested. "I've always been jealous of your boyfriends. And the women all the way back. Chaya!"

"Are you honestly saying you've been madly in love with me all this time and simply ignored it?" John asked.

"I..." Rodney began. "Well, as I said, I tried to never let my attractions—"

"You suppressed it. I get it. But that's not how it works for most people. Most people can't just decide they're not attracted to guys for thirty years and then simply change their mind from one minute to the other," John said.

"But that's not what I said. I said I _was_ attracted, but I chose not to _act_ on those feelings."

"By successfully suppressing your feelings. How can this have worked for you? How can you have managed to just ignore this all this time?" John asked, becoming successively louder until he shouted, "I've tried for thirty years and didn't manage!"

Rodney was confused because even if it had taken a while until he'd come out, John had certainly seemed quite comfortable with his status as a gay man in the last two decades. "You've tried not to be gay?"

"I've tried not loving you!"

The silence that followed John's outburst was deafening.

And as he let the words sink in, Rodney finally understood what John was trying to tell him. He didn't think that Rodney could genuinely love John now when he'd simply been able to ignore his feelings for years. And Rodney got that. He understood, but he didn't agree.

"It's not like that for me. I didn't fall in love with you and tried to ignore it. I tried not to see that I _could_ be in love with you from the moment I first saw you. I never let myself even _think_ about desiring you," Rodney said.

John looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Maybe you should just keep doing that," he eventually said.

"What?"

"Since it's so easy for you to ignore your feelings, just keep suppressing them. Let's just be friends. It's worked really well for thirty years. Why mess with that?" John said, giving Rodney a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"But that...I want you to be happy. _Really_ happy. I want us to be happy together," Rodney said, still reeling from John's apparent rejection even though he'd admitted that he was in love with Rodney.

"And what makes you think that being with me will make you happy?" John asked. After a moment, he amended, "Happier than you are now."

"You'd be happy," Rodney said. "You'd smile—that genuine life-is-awesome smile—and it would...it would have been me who did that. That would be amazing. I know that it might sound stupid coming from me, someone who's not really known for their overwhelming concern for what other people think or feel, but seeing you happy would mean more to me than anything I could think of. Certainly more than any prize I was ever awarded, no matter how deserving."

John just looked at him, and Rodney could see that he wasn't reaching him. "Do you want to fuck me?" John suddenly asked.

Rodney opened his mouth, then closed it again. He hadn't expected that. "Uhm, yes, we can do that. You mean now?" Rodney asked.

John turned his face away and snorted. "Go home, Rodney," he said, turning back to Rodney with a sad smile. Rodney wanted to protest, but John continued. "I know. You want to make me happy. But you can't. And that's okay. It's not your fault. Relationships just aren't things that you can figure out if you think about the problem hard enough. This is more like chemistry. Certain elements react to each other in certain ways and others just don't."

"But I do—"

"No, you don't," John cut Rodney off. "Tell, me what you want to do to me, Rodney. Tell me how you want to touch me."

Rodney hesitated. He still felt this automatic mental block when he thought about sex with John. He could probably try to fake it, but John would only see through him and call him out on it. "Love isn't just about sex," he said instead.

"No, but if it isn't about it _at all_ , it's friendship. Which we already have. And I'm pretty happy with what we have. I don't need more. And I don't _want_ more if the only reason you're doing it is making me happy. I'm sorry," John said.

Rodney wanted to protest. He didn't think that John was right. What John was saying was that Rodney's feelings for him weren't real, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Every bone in his body told Rodney that John was wrong, but he didn't know how to convince John of that.

"Goodnight, Rodney," John said, smiling at him. "We can talk tomorrow. Discuss when to fly out for the ceremony. Or maybe you need more time to decide which of the _many_ interview requests you'll grant." He grinned.

Rodney didn't return the smile. He felt devastated. He knew that John was trying to make it easy for him, but it wasn't helping, and it hurt Rodney that John thought he only had to sleep over this to forget about it. But he still didn't have any arguments to make. This wasn't an experiment where observations and the laws of physics led to one undeniable conclusion. He couldn't simply _prove_ to John that he was wrong and Rodney was right.

He didn't want to give in. In fact, he was determined not to give up, but he couldn't just refuse to leave until John saw the error of his ways, so Rodney turned around and left.

"Rodney!" John called after him. Rodney turned back to him. "It'll be all right," John said, smiling again.

Rodney only nodded, still unable to return the smile. He waited until John closed the door. Then he turned and looked down the street where his house stood a few hundred meters away. He should go back there and start thinking about a better approach. Maybe it would be enough if he showed John that he hadn't changed his mind the next day. And the day after that.

And he could work on getting his brain accustomed to the fact that it was allowed to have sexual feelings about John. Rodney refused to believe that his attraction to John was simply gone. He could start by fantasizing about sex with him. And once he'd be able to tell John in graphic detail how he wanted him, John would no longer be able to think it was just friendship.

Rodney wanted to start walking home, but he stood on the little pathway that led from John's door to the sidewalk as if he were frozen to the spot. He couldn't go home now. He just couldn't. He was paralyzed by the fear that he could be wrong.

Not about his feelings, but about the fact that given enough time John would be convinced. John could be incredibly stubborn. And he seemed determined to not even give them a chance to _try_ this. Rodney didn't know why. Even if John were right—which he wasn't—what could he lose by being with Rodney?

Rodney briefly thought about Jennifer. She'd married again a few years after their divorce. Even if that relationship hadn't turned out as he'd hoped, he didn't consider it a loss. What would he have gained if they'd never moved beyond being friends? A chance with John, he thought, but that didn't make sense in this context. John had apparently loved him for thirty years, so it wasn't as if _not_ being with Rodney had somehow made it easier for him to find the right guy.

And he never would because Rodney was right here. None of this made any sense and it frustrated Rodney, because for thirty years, John had made it easy for the most part to be with him. To be his friend. Even if Rodney had taken an exceptionally long time to realize that he wanted to be more than John's friend, John had no right to make things so difficult between them now.

He was denying _both_ of them the happiness that was within reach simply because Rodney couldn't quite articulate his feelings the way John wanted. And if John could do it now, he might be capable of continuing to do it, and Rodney couldn't let that happen. He couldn't count on John eventually giving in. They weren't getting any younger. He wanted to be with John while they could still enjoy it!

He needed a way to convince John _now_. He briefly considered going back and simply refusing to leave again, but he feared that John could and would simply ignore him, counting on the fact that Rodney had to sleep and eat at some point and eventually get clean clothes.

Besides he didn't want to _force_ John into this. He wanted John to see this as what it was: The opportunity to finally be happy.

Rodney still couldn't understand how John could throw this chance away like this. He'd been in love with Rodney for thirty years! Shouldn't even the slightest chance to be together be more than enough to take it? Rodney didn't get how he could _choose_ to stay friends instead of trying—

Ha! This was it. This was the argument that he needed. He rushed back to the door, which opened before he'd even knocked.

"I've been wondering if you were trying to audition as my newest lawn ornament," John said, but his jaw was clenched and he was still gripping the door knob.

"You don't believe I could be in love with you because I was able to suppress my feelings, but you're doing _exactly_ the same now. You're willing to ignore _thirty years_ of being in love with me out of fear. If _you_ can do it and still love me, so can I," Rodney said, lifting his chin and crossing his arms in front of him. Quod erat demonstrandum.

But apparently John disagreed. "It's not the same, Rodney," he said, taking a step back to let Rodney in. He let go of the door knob and ran a hand through his hair.

Rodney stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Why not? Why is it okay for _you_ to act against your feelings, but not for me?"

"It's not about _my_ feelings," John said. "It's about _yours_. If I could believe that you genuinely felt something—something beyond friendship—for me, I'd jump at the chance. We'd be in bed right this second. But we're not because that's not what you want."

"I do want it," Rodney disagreed. "When I thought about making you happy, I was fully aware that it would include sex."

"God, Rodney, can you hear yourself talk? _Make_ you happy, fully _aware_. This is a not a stupid experiment. This isn't a lab set-up. You can't just write a hypothesis and then test it, expecting that the parameters must follow a logical path to the result."

"I know that!" Rodney shouted. "It would be much easier if I could."

"Well, sorry for being human," John said.

"This isn't fair," Rodney said. "You're not even giving me a chance to _try_."

"Try _what_? Try if you can bring yourself to have sex with me?" John asked.

"You think it would be a hardship?" Rodney asked incredulously.

"It certainly doesn't sound like a dream come true for you," John said.

"That's because I've got thirty years of conditioning myself to ignore my attraction for you. I'm sorry that I can't just snap out of that. And it _still_ doesn't mean that I'm disgusted or even reluctant to have sex with you, which seems to be what you're thinking," Rodney said defensively.

"Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?" John asked.

Rodney took a deep breath. "Yes!" He looked back at the last thirty years, from the moment he met John, all those instances where feelings beyond friendship had stirred in him and he'd rigorously stomped them out without second thought. "Yes, I know that it's fucked up. I'm a fucked up person, okay. What do you want from me? I can't change what I did. I can't change that I... Shit. All these years I've been shaking my head whenever another homophobic asshole was found screwing around with some guy, and I never... I wasn't homophobic. I didn't run around telling people that gays shouldn't be allowed to marry or adopt. I simply..."

"Suppressed your attraction to men," John quietly finished for him.

"It never stopped, though. You have to believe me, John. This isn't just friendship. It was never just friendship. I was attracted to you from the first time I saw you," Rodney said.

John took a long breath. "Rodney...I don't know...if this can work."

"It _can_ ," Rodney said. "It _has_ to."

"Because you want it to?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because we deserve it," Rodney said.

"Lots of people who deserve to be happy aren't," John pointed out.

"But they're not us. We've gone through hell together. We've been un-unhappy together for thirty years. I don't think there ever could have been someone else who makes me happy. I just didn't see it," Rodney said.

"You really think I would make you happy?" John asked.

"Yes," Rodney said without hesitation. "Even if I didn't realize I was in love with you, I always wanted more. We've known each other for thirty years, but we only hugged one time. And that was pretty awkward."

"Sorry," John said with a self-deprecating smile.

"It's okay," Rodney said. "Maybe I shouldn't have initiated it. It felt like the end of...something back then." It had been when Rodney and Jennifer had left Atlantis.

"I was afraid that if I hugged you back, I'd never let go again," John admitted.

Rodney took that in, once again marveling about their relationship and how much of it had always remained beneath the surface. Forced there by their fears and insecurities. "Can I hug you now?"

John looked at him, then nodded almost imperceptibly.

Rodney stepped forward and wound his arms around John, slipping them between John's body and arms. It wasn't until he felt John pull him into his own arms that Rodney really squeezed him. "I love you," he whispered into John's ear. He felt John shudder in his arms. He didn't say anything to Rodney, though.

Rodney pulled back until he could look at John's face. "Do friends usually want to kiss each other?" he asked.

John's gaze fell to Rodney's mouth. He swallowed.

Rodney moved slowly forward. He didn't completely close the gap between their lips, waiting for John to take that last step.

John breathed in and out, not making a move, either back _or_ forward.

"I want to stop being afraid," Rodney said.

John gasped, then closed the distance between them.

It was a slow kiss. They took their time finding the right angle, keeping it soft and tender. Careful. Rodney pulled one hand from around John to cup his face instead. The stubble felt unfamiliar, but it wasn't a bad feeling. This was John. He was kissing John, and nothing about it made him feel uncomfortable. He felt safe and loved.

And slowly he felt something else spreading from his heart further down. He opened his mouth up a bit further, deepening the kiss.

John's hand moved to the back of Rodney's head, and when he opened up his mouth, their tongues touched for a second.

Rodney moved back, taking a deep breath, surprised by the sudden feeling of lust.

There was a spark in John's eyes, and one corner of his mouth turned up. "Still suppressing?" he asked.

Rodney breathed heavily. He looked at John's eyes, his slightly asymmetrical nose, the full mouth. He felt John's body pressed against his.

He felt a jolt of lust and let it run through his body to his toes, the tips of his fingers, the shell of his ears, which suddenly felt warm. "Unh," he said.

John laughed, an open happy laugh. Happy.

Rodney let the sight sink in together with the lust and the love, that all-encompassing _feeling_ for John that no single word could hope to adequately describe. He put his hand on John's face again, lightly stroking his cheek with the tips of his fingers.

John's laugh melted into a smile. "Happy now?" he asked.

Rodney thought about the question, but he found it hard to grasp the meaning of John's words. He was still tingling all over in a wonderful, weird way. "Uhm, I'll get back to you on that when I can think again," he said.

John's smile widened. "You do that," he said. He gave Rodney a quick kiss, pulling away far too soon, making Rodney try to follow his mouth. John laughed again. "For the record, I am." His smile became more serious. "I really am. More than I'd ever hoped for."

Rodney only leaned forward to kiss him again. Once his head was clear again, he'd answer John. Although he was pretty sure what the answer was going to be. It felt like something a lot better than un-unhappiness.


End file.
